


sudden onset sentiment

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [17]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Caretaker Kylo Ren, Exhaustion, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Armitage Hux, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: With such a heavy course load on his hands, Armitage would rather spend his time studying than sleeping, eating, or hanging out with persistent nuisance Ben Solo.But an unexpected illness might force him to accept that he needs all three.





	sudden onset sentiment

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't write much of anything yesterday, but managed to do another Bad Things Happen Bingo, this time with "Working Themselves to Exhaustion" and college AU BenArmie. Hope you like!

Midterms are coming up next week, and Armitage Hux already feels like he’s drowning.

Even his counselors had raised their eyebrows at his course load this quarter, not that Hux had paid them much mind at the time. After all, who knew his limits better than himself? Twenty credits might _seem_ like a lot, and to most of the lunkheads packed into his class it might be, but he knows he can handle it.  

Most engineering majors graduate in five years. Hux figures, with a little bit of luck and a lot of shoving his nose to the grindstone, he can make it in four. _With_ honors, if only to get his father to shut his trap about his alleged deficiencies.

Armitage is on the right track for all of that as it stands, and he’s loathe to show any quarter and fall behind. It might be daunting and difficult at times, but he can _handle it_.

So when he leaves his last lecture on the Friday before midterms, he hardly has time to enjoy the warm spring sunlight or the breeze rustling through the green and gold trees dotting campus. He’s running on little sleep, compensating with caffeine, and his brain is swimming with equations and terminology. In fact, he only stops in his tracks at the sudden _stomp_ of uneven footsteps racing up behind him, and a terribly familiar, deep shout of _hey, Armie!_

Armitage’s neutral expression drops into an annoyed frown as he turns to see—of course—notorious bother Ben Organa-Solo jogging towards him, away from his usual group of friends, the same ones that always cast suspicious and questioning eyes in Armitage’s direction when he steals their leader away. He usually pays them no mind, but Ben on the other hand is the kind of person he can’t _help_ but give attention to. Mostly because he is always, _aggressively_ , flaunting the fact that he considers Armitage a good friend when they’re little more than acquaintances—the consequence of a seating arrangement in their Computer Science course and little more.

But Ben won’t see it that way. So he always greets Armitage whenever he spots him, running up to talk like an excitable puppy pumped with far too much growth hormone.

“It’s been a minute, huh?” Ben flicks his head to the side, casting a bit of dark hair off his forehead. “What you been up to?”

“Nothing. Coursework,” Armitage amends, hoping it’ll be the end of the conversation, but with Ben Organa-Solo there is no such thing. He’s had to learn strategies to get his fellow student off his scent, but he’s a little too tired to implement any of them today.

“Never a dull moment, is there?” Ben teases, smiling easily. He’s not quite the type to bust out in large, toothy grins, but these little softer smirks always come so readily to his lips.

“You joke, but I don’t think studying for my future career is boring,” Armitage sighs. He understands Ben doesn’t take his time in university nearly as seriously—doesn’t have to, with wealthy donor parents footing the bill and a prized spot on the lacrosse team—but he’d appreciate a little understanding of why it’s important for _him_.

“Maybe not. But I still think you need a little more time away from the books. I could help you with that if you let me.”

Armitage snorts. “Dare I ask how?”

“I was actually just thinking about you when you walked by.” Another hair flick, Ben’s smirk reaches his eyes. “We haven’t really hung out properly since last quarter. You wanna do something this evening?”

Armitage can’t really think of a single time he and Ben have “hung out.” Unless he considers group projects social events, which he might. Armitage really doesn’t understand _what_ he’s thinking half the time.

“Unfortunately,” Armitage starts, lying, “I haven’t forgotten about midterm exams next week, the way you must have. There’s much I still need to study.”

“What, you unlucky enough to get Monday-Tuesday tests?”

Armitage wrinkles his nose.

“My exams don’t start until Wednesday, but _still_ —”

“Come on. You’re smart. You probably already know everything you need to know.”

And Armitage _is_ smart, far smarter than most of his peers, but that’s beside the point. He glares at Ben, frustrated.

“ _Knowing_ something is different from knowing how to _apply_ it to the various scenarios that might be on my exams.”

Ben sticks his hands in his jacket pockets, tilting his head to the side. He does that, sometimes. Armitage believes it helps him think.

“Well...what about if I helped you study?”

Armitage’s eyebrows raise dubiously.

“You don’t have your sports practice or gym routine or anything like that to do instead?”

Ben shrugs.

“Yeah, but I meant after all that.”

Armitage doubts very much Ben will be at all helpful as a study partner. They’re nearing the end of their first year, and he’s still yet to declare a major, unlike Hux, who had applied to university with his already set in stone. Last Armitage heard Ben was taking History of American Leisure Culture and writing an essay on circuses. How that qualified as a General Education requirement, he will never know.

But truthfully, Ben is just about the only genuine friend Armitage has on campus. He can’t always be jeopardizing his study time to spare Ben’s feeling but— _well_ , Armitage supposes he can read off some of his flashcards.

“Alright. But no distractions! You turn on the television and I’m twisting off your hand,” Armitage snips, but his casual threat only makes Ben smirk wider.

“You got it. Five o’clock, then?” He claps Armitage on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Sounds good. I’ll bring dinner.”

“Studying first! Food second!” Armitage shouts after Ben, frowning sourly as the other boy laughs it off and retreats back to his own group of friends. He tuts and rolls his eyes, shifting the strap of his book bag more securely on his shoulder before once more heading off towards his dorm.

The campus is set up on a very gradual incline, with the majority of academic and administrative buildings sitting neatly at the bottom, and the dormitories and student life facilities established at the top. Armitage is still getting used to the number of stairs he must tackle in a single day, and he already swears his calf muscles have doubled in size in only a couple months.

Oddly, however, as he crests the first in the series of steps leading towards the complex of freshman dormitories, he feels a little shaky on his feet. Stopping at the top and standing off to the side, as to not disrupt the flow of students behind him, he takes a moment to inhale deeply and blink his eyes. _One, two, three,_ until he feels a little more steady. He squints, finding his vision a little fuzzier than usual, but then shakes his head and dismisses it.

Armitage starts up the second flight of stairs, though he only manages a couple of steps before the dizziness returns, this time stronger. He leans heavily on the banister, taking slower, more deliberate strides. When he reaches the top, he feels a little pinch of nausea in his stomach, and presses a hand to his middle.

 _Did he eat breakfast this morning_? Armitage furrows his brows, trying to think. He remembers the largest size coffee cup from the student cafe, served black with only a dash of cinnamon sent floating in its depths. Occasionally he purchases a plain croissant from the same place, usually at the urging of the handsome, curly-haired student barista who’s developed an unfortunate nickname for him.

_But had he done so today?_

Armitage grits his teeth, closing his eyes to stave off the swimming colors in his vision. _Hells_ , he is not going to let something as silly as _hunger_ get him down. Not right before midterms.

By the time he reaches the top of the third staircase he feels like vomiting. He _doesn’t_ , thankfully, unsure he could live down the horror of getting sick right outside his dormitory, but he feels shaky as a newborn fawn as he stumbles the rest of the way to his building. He manages to fish his card out of his pocket with clammy hands, and gets it through the magstripe reader on the fourth pass.

Ben has the other key to his dormitory. Armitage has already warned him that if he loses it, he’s not getting another one—Armitage himself has already lost four, and on the fifth one he’ll have to hand over twenty-five dollars, which he is _not_ going to do just so Ben can rifle through his movie collection and bother him at-will.

Armitage strides quickly through the lobby, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes, _especially_ not those of any of his RAs. He doesn’t need glorified student nannies fussing over him, not when he has _work_ to do. He’s fine.

He’s _fine_.

It’s just a spot of hunger and some vertigo. Perhaps a headache coming on—Armitage remembers his stepmother getting migraines once or twice, laying her out for a few hours. Not that he has hours to _spare_ , not with four tests and an essay due next week, but he doubts it’s anything too serious.

Armitage drops his keycard in front of his dormitory door, and when he bends down to pick it up a sudden pressure swells in his head, and for a moment he thinks he won’t be able to pull himself back up. Sick builds in the back of his throat, and he scrapes his nails against the carpet before managing to grab his key and jam it into the reader.

Armitage has never been happier to live alone. He stumbles through the doorway, letting it swing heavily shut behind him. The curtains in the room are mercifully drawn shut, keeping out the glare from the outside world. He doesn’t bother to turn on the overhead light, instead flicking on his desk lamp as he lets his book bag slump to the floor.

 _You’re fine. You’re fine_. Armitage repeats inside his head, hissing as he presses the butts of both palms against his eyes. Trying his best to will away the sickness, the dizziness, everything else _but_ focus and his ability to retain information. He doesn’t have _time_ for this, for the weaknesses of his body. He’s been able to push through problems like this before. There’s no reason why he can’t do it now.

Armitage knows he probably _should_ have something to eat, but there’s nothing in his dorm room apart from an untouched carton of vitamins and a currently emptied bottle of water. Armitage keeps himself propped up on the edge of his desk, breathing heavily, willing himself to move.

 _Water will help_. _That’ll fix you right up_. Armitage nods in agreement with the reassuring voice inside his head and paws for the water bottle, clenching his fingers around the rubber strap as he pushes himself—one, two, _three_ —up and away from the desk.

He doesn’t make it far.

Armitage falls partially on his side, upper arm managing to shield his skull from impact but his hips and side _smart_ when they smash against the floor. He gasps, momentarily losing the wind from his lungs, but when he tries to push himself up he finds his limbs won’t behave themselves. He lets out a small, soft whimper as the water bottle clatters uselessly just out of his reach, and he lets his head drop as he realizes he can’t see much beyond the dark, splitting colors in his vision.

Armitage’s stomach twists in nausea as his brain throbs, pain echoing throughout his entire body. His muscles tingle but still refuse to obey him, even to help drag himself to the bathroom so he can vomit without making a mess.

Above him, someone in another room pounds on the floor. He hears distant laughter, the sound of the wind rustling through the trees just outside his window. He lets out a sickly cough, head swimming.

Armitage stays that way—on the very edge of unconsciousness—until his dormitory door clicks, and a sharp bath of warm light casts over him.

* * *

“Armie? Armie, are you okay?”

The sound is far off at first, like Armitage is hearing it from a few stories up. He groans weakly, eyelids feeling as if every lash were tied with lead weights. He tries moving, only for something strong yet careful to keep him in place.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m gonna get you in your bed, alright?”

Armitage has little strength to argue. He feels his queasiness ramp up when the solid floor beneath him suddenly vanishes, but the strong presence keeping him together helps stave it off. He rests his throbbing head against something firm and warm, and lets a surprisingly familiar scent drift into his nose. It’s not anything he remembers smelling in his dormitory before, but it’s nice. It helps him feel safe.

Armitage knows the soft feeling of his bed, the blankets that keep him warm at night, that will certainly need washing after this. He manages to curl up on his side as he’s laid down, but as he reaches to pull the covers up over himself another hand beats him to it, bringing them up to his shoulders.

He wills himself to open his eyes, finally managing the feat after a couple moments. At first, Armitage sees little but the vague shapes of his dormitory, now illuminated only by the orange light of his desk lamp, the sun outside his window long departed. Something broad and dark shifts through the light, casting a shadow over him as it leans over his bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Ben murmurs, sinking into a crouch so he can be on Armitage’s level. He smells of sweat and grass and deodorant, his unzipped black hoodie hastily thrown on over his jersey. His typical cocksure expression is gone, replaced by a concern nakeder than any Armitage has ever seen levied in his direction. He’s not used to it. He shudders, feeling a chill.

“Not...not sick…” Armitage croaks, voice sounding terrible in his ears. Ben frowns.

“Whatever you are, it’s not good. I was almost going to take you to the doctor when I saw you on the ground.” Armitage shakes his head roughly, stopping only when the throbbing in his skull worsens.

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t. You’d hate me forever. Even more than you already do.” Ben chuckles flatly, one large hand kneading the bed sheets beside Armitage’s head. Those anxious fingers and prominent, pale knuckles are almost as expressive as his face.

Armitage lets out a thin, miserable sigh. He closes his eyes briefly, and feels something brush the hair off his clammy forehead.

“Gotta... _study_ …”

“Oh no. Not now.” Ben rifles through something on the floor, ignoring Armitage’s moan of consternation. “I brought you some food. There’s ibuprofen in my pocket. No one’s cracking open any textbooks while you’re still feeling like crap.”

Armitage huffs, opening his eyes only to roll them, thankfully without agitating much of the ache in his head. As his capacity for conscious thought starts to return to him, he considers berating Ben for his lack of understanding. Of course he thinks it’s fine to slack off and let a little dizziness and nausea derail everything, he _barely_ has to work as hard as Armitage does.

But Ben is surprisingly convincing, especially when he cracks open a carton full of fried noodles, veggies, and beef, and allows the smell to steadily fill the stuffy space of the dorm.

“If you’re worried about the tests so much, don’t. Professors are supposed to show leniency in the face of serious illness and exhaustion. This definitely counts. And if yours won’t listen and wanna be difficult, well…” The easy smirk, again, slides onto Ben’s face as he gets Armitage to sit up and helps him swallow one of the painkillers. “I think I can help sway them.”

After a small sip of water, Armitage shakily accepts the carton of food and a plastic utensil, the smell making his mouth salivate and his stomach churn in need. It’s the first bite to eat he’s had all day, and he nearly moans in ecstasy when it hits his tongue. Ben, pleased, gets up and moves to the bathroom to finally fill the water bottle that had been left on the floor.

Armitage watches him go, mind occupied with something unrelated to studying or sickness for the first time today. He stuffs a forkful of noodles in his mouth, reclining back against the headboard of his bed. A little hum drifts from the direction of the bathroom, filling the typical quiet of the dormitory with warm noise.

Armitage chews thoughtfully, already feeling a bit better thanks to the food—and the unexpected source of attention and care.  

Perhaps there are benefits to being friends with Ben Organa-Solo after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for another short fic. I've kind of lost confidence working on my longer, preexisting WIPs, so things are a little hard right now. 
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


End file.
